


Scout's Honor

by unfancyandy



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Camping, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn, Teenage Losers Club (IT)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25526398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfancyandy/pseuds/unfancyandy
Summary: a couple of losers learn some new things about each other and themselves on a camping trip in Western Mainethe first story in a series chronicling Richie and Eddie's (and the rest of the Losers' Club's) last year of high school as Richie and Eddie's feelings for each other enter new territory
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	1. Six, Eight, or Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eddie's POV

Eddie hated Monopoly, but he was almost always outnumbered when the group picked the game. Since Bill was drawing in his notebook and Richie was reading his comics in the hammock, Eddie stood no chance. His suggestion for Life was quickly ousted by Stan and Mike.

Honestly, Eddie was really trying to keep his cool. He needed a favor. Whoever declared bankruptcy first or finished with the least amount of money in the game was going to do this favor for Eddie. He knew having a meltdown over this game wasn’t going to help him out, but how was he supposed to do that when Stan and Beverly were obviously pricing him out of the game.

Stan was a ruthless player. It didn’t matter the game – the guy hated to lose, but he hid it so well, unlike Eddie who was prone to popping a blood vessel on every other occasion.

“Beverly, I have a proposition,” Stan told her with a small smirk on his face.

Eddie’s blood started to simmer. The sound of Bill’s charcoal pencil suddenly went silent and Richie’s comic loudly slapped in his lap.

“I’m listening,” Bev played along. “What’ve you got?”

Stan didn’t break eye contact with her, though Eddie had a feeling Stan knew that exactly every set of eyes was glued to him. “I’ll trade you B&O Railroad for both of your utilities.”

Bev contemplated a little, chewing on the inside of her lip. Eddie felt sweat on his scalp and willed it not to run down the back of his neck. Maybe Bev would take pity on him this time.

“And I’ll throw in this Get Out of Jail Free card,” Stan supplemented.

“Deal,” Beverly smirked.

Eddie’s right eye twitched. He watched as they theatrically made the exchange. Eddie figured that was why Beverly went along with all of Stan’s scheming every time – she loved the drama of it.

“That’s a good trade,” Ben nodded.

That’s it. Eddie couldn’t take it. “Yeah,” he said loudly. “Damn good trade, huh, boys.”

Richie whistled, “Sick ‘em, Eds.”

Eddie ignored him.

“What?” Stan asked, thrown by Eddie’s calm demeanor, though he knew the guy was bubbling with rage underneath.

Eddie studied the board, nodding, “All four railroads the utilities and a get out of jail free card?” Beverly’s eyes sparkled with mirth. “That’s a good deal. Real savvy, Stan.”

Bill closed his notebook and shuffled closer, “Th-th-this is t-t-too good.”

Eddie grabbed the dice quickly, his nails scratching the board loudly, the only outwardly sign that inside – he was losing it. “You know what? I think I’m going to buy some more houses.”

Stan breathed through his nose calmly, then, “How many is ‘more’?”

“Just give me a second,” Eddie assessed the board. “Actually, hey Mike?”

“Hey Eddie,” Mike replied nervously.

“I’ll give you Baltic, Park Place, and two greens for two oranges,” Eddie offered.

“I want two thousand dollars,” Mike countered.

“I’ll give you fifty dollars,” Eddie replied.

“Done,” Mike agreed.

Eddie shook his hand, “Pleasure doing business with you.”

“What!?” Stan shrieked. Eddie was getting to him. “You asked for two thousand and just like that you’re gonna accept only fifty, Mike?”

Mike smiled and shrugged, “I wanna see how this plays out. Besides, he already knows I can’t go camping tomorrow.”

“Realtor,” Eddie addressed Stan now, “Could I please get three hotels?”

Eddie was getting to Stan. He could tell. Stan scoffed, “Oh yeah, sure. On what?”

“Orange – what I just bought,” Eddie replied. He slapped the money done. “There you go, Property Manager.”

Richie piped up from the hammock, “In the blue corner, weighing in at 98 pounds and 16 years of age, Eddie the Mean Machine Kasp-“

“Can it, Rich!” Stan yelled.

Beverly giggled. Eddie smirked. He had him. He couldn’t believe it. He had him.

“What’s going on?” Stan challenged Eddie.

“Nothing’s going on,” he shrugged. “It’s your roll.”

Stan assessed the board. He sighed deeply. “Listen, Eddie. If I roll a six, eight, or nine, these are gonna get very bad in here.”

It was true. Eddie knew exactly what would happen. If Stan rolled any of those numbers, he’d owe more money than he currently had. Stan had risked too much too recently and underestimated Eddie’s need for someone to join him on his camping trip. “I don’t know what to tell you, Stan. Just think of all the other numbers in the world then.”

Beverly readjusted her legs, “Remember it’s just a game, guys.”

“I’m not so sure about that, Bev,” Ben told her.

“This is the turning point battle in the Monopoly War,” Richie added.

Stan grabbed the dice. He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand.

Eddie held his breath.

The first die landed on the board after a couple of tumbles, a four displayed upright. The second die rolled off the board and onto the wooden plank ground somewhere. Stan and Eddie scrambled onto their hands and needs at the same time. Mike and Bill dove with them. All four of them looking for the die while Bev and Ben stood up to get out of their way. Then Eddie spotted it, that gorgeous white cube with five black dots on it.

Eddie cheered as Stan sat upright and threw his money down on the table.

“Holy shit, Eds actually beat you, Stan!” Richie laughed.

Stan held his hand up, his palm facing Richie, “What the fuck, Mike? Since when do we help Eddie beat me in Monopoly for fifty fucking dollars?”

Mike tried to keep a straight face, sucking his lips in as much as possible.

“Sorry, Stan. I hope you’re ready for a two-night camping with a four-hour hike,” Eddie teased.

“How come you didn’t ask me to come?” Richie asked Eddie.

Eddie rolled his eyes, “Because, Rich, the last time we went _camping_ in Bill’s backyard, you gave me a first degree burn with a hot dog!”

Bill snickered, “My m-m-mom freaked out.”

“Not as much as mine,” Eddie reminded him, though no one needed a reminder.

“Come on, I said I was sorry, Eds.”

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie dismissed him.

“You never mentioned a hike, Eddie,” Stan told him.

“Trust me, it wasn’t my idea, but this weekend is the last chance I have to get an Eagle Scout to supervise. I need two more nights and a hike with an elevation climb or I can’t get my camping badge on time,” Eddie explained.

“Why can’t any of the other guys in your troop go with you?” Beverly asked.

Eddie shook his head, “They all completely the badge already. None of them want to go.”

“They don’t sound much like scouts,” Mike commented.

“I know. That’s why I’m asking one of you.” He turned to Stan, “Please, Stan, come on. I’m sorry about Monopoly.” He held both hands up, “We agreed trades were okay.”

“Fine,” Stan agreed. “What time do we leave tomorrow?”

Eddie grinned, “9 am. Jason’s picking us up at my house.”

“Jason?” Bill asked.

“Jason Thompson,” Eddie answered.

“What!?” Richie laughed, “That guy? Isn’t that guy like high all the time? How did he become an Eagle Scout?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, “Look, he got his Eagle Scout before he starting smoking weed, okay?”

Beverly joked, “There’s a badge for that, right?”

“It doesn’t matter that much, anyway. I know what I’m doing, but these are the rules. I gotta have a camping buddy,” Eddie explained.

“Well, who better than Stan, huh?” Mike smiled, clapping Stan on the back.

“You forgive me, right, Stan?” Eddie asked honestly.

Stan nodded, “Just don’t expect me to ever cut you any slack in Monopoly ever again.”

“Oh, you were going easy on me?”

“Are you kidding me?” Stan replied, “I have to take some risks just to keep it interesting these days.”

Eddie was glad Stan was back to his composed self. He still couldn’t believe it – he outlasted Stan. “Hey, wait, are we gonna finish the game?”

“Ehh, I don’t think it’s going to get any more exciting after that,” Beverly admitted.

It was true. Nothing could really top standoff between Eddie and Stan. A few minutes later, all seven of them were crawling out of the clubhouse and headed home. They made it about a mile on their bikes before they reached Mike’s truck. Stan, Beverly and Ben threw their bikes in the back of the truck and hopped in with Mike who would drive them home. Eddie lived just a few blocks away from both Richie and Bill. They continued on toward Jackson St. until they reached Bill’s house after fifteen minutes of tough pedaling just to keep up with Silver. From there, Richie and Eddie walked their bikes home, taking in the cool breeze.

“Sorry about the hot dog burn, Eds,” Richie admitted.

Eddie lifted up his arm to show Richie the faint scar. “It’s alright. The scar’s almost disappeared by now.”

Richie grabbed his bicep to examine the raised white skin more closely. Eddie squirmed. “Well, I’m still sorry,” Richie told him. “And I still think I’d be good at camping.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and gently pulled his arm back to his side. “Look, it’s not about that, Rich.”

“Well then what is it?”

Eddie sighed, “My mom doesn’t want you to come with me. I already asked.”

Richie shook his head, “Sonia still mad about the hot dog burn?”

“No, I mean, yes – I didn’t argue, Rich. Otherwise, she wouldn’t let me get my badge, and then I’d have to wait until next summer.”

Richie nodded, “I get." Then, after a beat, "Why is this Eagle Scout thing so important to you?”

Eddie shrugged, “It’s something I get to do for me. Something my mom can’t control. And it’s nice, you know, to get outta Derry sometimes.”

“Well, I’m this way,” Richie gestured right at the intersection they came to. “Let’s do something when you and Stan are back, yeah?”

“Yeah. Sounds good, Rich.”

Eddie turned his back to his friend and kept walking, but then stopped and turned around to watch him go.

At home, Eddie’s mom was waiting in the kitchen. She told Eddie to hurry upstairs and shower before dinner, adding, “Also, you got a phone call from that boy Stanley.”

“What did he say?” Eddie asked.

She shrugged, “He just said he’d call back later.”

Eddie sprinted up the stairs, his mother yelling at him not to (“You’ll break another bone, Eddie!”), picked up the hallway phone and dialed Stan.

“Listen, Eddie,” Stan was explaining just a minute later. “I’m sorry, but I can’t come tomorrow.”

"Well, shit." 


	2. grilled chicken and asparagus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Richie's POV

When Richie got home, he could tell it was going to be one of those nights again just by looking through the front window of his house. He released his bike, letting it fall to the grass with a metallic thud. His dad was pacing in the living room.

Well, maybe pacing wasn’t the right word. He was sort of wandering aimlessly like he didn’t know where he was supposed to go in his own house. Richie knew what that was like. Sometimes he also felt like there wasn’t a place in his home where he wasn’t in the way.

Richie mimicked his bike and plopped onto the grass. He lied down on his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows while he picked at blades of grass like they weren’t supposed to be there. His mind wandered for a bit before returning to something Eddie had said, about his mom not wanting Richie to go camping with him.

He knew Eddie’s mom didn’t like him. That was no surprise, but it’s not like it didn’t make him feel like total crap sometimes anyway. He rolled onto his back, holding two long blades of grass out in front of him. He twisted them into knots, and when one inevitably broke he would just pluck another.

The front door swung open and pitched yellow light onto the grass beside him. It was his mom. “Are you gonna eat?” she asked, not waiting for a reply. His mom had already turned back inside before he even thought about sitting up. Richie let his arms relax and fall to his chest. He gazed into the night sky just long enough to see a new star appear as dusk settled in around him.

He sluggishly pushed himself up from the grass and walked inside. His mom and dad were sat at the kitchen table, a plate of grilled chicken and asparagus in the middle. His dad already had a helping on his plate and his mom sat in silence, her plate empty.

“Looks good, Mom,” Richie told her.

She didn’t respond at first. Then, “Your father wanted something else.”

“Maggie –“ his father started, but stopped. This kind of argument had aged like a block of cheese left on the kitchen counter. No one wanted to touch it anymore.

Richie reached for the tongs while his mother sighed.

“Richard, I just saw you outside with your hands in the dirt. Go wash your hands before you touch the food.”

“I wasn’t digging in the dirt, Mom.”

“Son,” his dad interrupted, “Just wash your hands.”

Richie walked silently to the kitchen sink then scrubbed at his hands with the dish soap. He watched as his dad took more bites of his chicken and his mom sat there with her empty plate. He sat back down at the table and turned to her, “Do you want me to put some on your plate, Mom?”

She minutely shook her head, “Not hungry.”

“You don’t want to eat?” Richie asked.

His mother didn’t reply. His dad just sat back in his chair, chugging his water, and setting it back on the table with a loud sigh.

Richie asked again, “Mom? Why aren’t you eating?”

“I’m not hungry,” she replied, not looking her son in the eye.

“So, you’re just gonna sit there and watch me and Dad eat then?” Richie asked. Normally he would just eat dinner quickly and disappear up to his room. It was probably the thought of Mrs. Kaspbrak not wanting Richie around her son that was bothering him, but now it was just easiest to take it out on his mom. While she was no hover-parent, she could often be the miserable opposite of one, and that did nothing to nurture Richie’s incessant need for attention.

His mom didn’t respond anyway, just stared at the platter of chicken. His father did set his fork and knife down somewhat aggressively, though he had nothing to say.

“You know, as fun as this conversation is, I’m not very hungry either, so I’m just going to bed,” Richie announced and stood from the table. He picked up his plate and almost put it away in the kitchen cupboard.

“Put it in the sink,” his mom told him robotically.

“It’s completely clean, Mom.”

Maggie stood up to meet her son in the kitchen. She wordlessly took the plate and utensils from his hands then began washing them in the sink. His father resumed eating his chicken.

Richie immediately headed upstairs to his room and slammed the door behind him. He kicked off his shoes and fell belly first onto his twin bed. After removing his glasses, he hugged the pillow under his head tightly and turned his face into the blue fabric of his pillowcase. He didn’t scream. He just pushed his face farther into the pillow until he could no longer breathe. He held himself there until his face became hot with panic quickly shifted his face to the side to take in a big gulp of air. Richie shifted onto his side, his knees scrunching up against his abdomen and his meeting in the middle of his chest, two clenched fists held tightly against the hollow space between his collarbones. His stomach grumbled.

Soon he would be back in school and his parents could pretend to worry about his grades, which were always more than fine. He should really think about getting a job. His parents would pay for his college applications, but Richie didn’t want to ask for their help. He didn’t want to need anything from them. He closed his eyes and pictured himself curled up in a college dorm bed.

What felt like minutes later, his father’s hand was on his shoulder, shaking him awake. He must have fallen asleep for at least an hour. It was much darker in his room, and he could barely make out his dad’s silhouette.

“I’m still not hungry,” Richie lied.

“You have a phone call,” his dad told him.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Eddie. I’ve been trying to wake you up. Should I tell him you’ll call back tomorrow?” his dad asked in reply.

“Oh, no, I’ll get it,” Richie told him as he sat upright in bed. He reached blindly for his glasses on the bedside table and turned on his lamp. He made his way into the hallway after his dad and picked up the phone from the base.

“Hello?”

“Hey Rich, you sound like you just woke up,” Eddie’s voice came through on the line.

Richie scratched at the back of his ear. “I kinda did,” he yawned.

“Since when do you go to bed early?” Eddie asked.

“I didn’t mean to,” Richie explained, “I just fell asleep is all.” Eddie didn’t need to know his mild family drama. It was old news by now. “Should you be sleeping anyway? You still have to leave early for your camping trip, right?”

“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Eddie replied quietly. “Hold on a sec.”

Richie listened to the muffled scratchiness of the phone being wedged in the curvature of Eddie’s neck as he picked up his telephone unit and dragged it as far as it would go while anchored to the outlet in the wall. Richie did the same, grabbing the phone base and setting it on the hallway floor, right next to his bedroom door. He slipped inside and pulled the cord taught as he shut the door and plopped on the floor of his bedroom.

“You there?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“So listen, uh, Stan bailed on me. Apparently, some great aunt he barely knew kicked the bucket and now his family’s going to Portland to sort through her shit,” Eddie explained.

“Wow, you sound really cut up about it, Eds,” Richie replied.

He could practically hear Eddie rolling his eyes through the phone. “I gave him my condolences.”

Richie smirked, “Was that all? You sure you didn’t work in a ‘rot in hell’ or ‘you dumb shit’ anywhere in there.”

Eddie giggled. “No, Rich, those high compliments are reserved for you.”

“Shucks, you sure know how to make a fella blush, Eds,” Richie replied.

“Shut up,” Eddie said, but there was no malice in it. “Anyway, you wanna go camping or not?”

“And what does Mrs. Kaspbrak have to say about that proposal?” Richie asked.

“Well, she doesn’t know,” Eddie replied.

“Wow, turning into quite the rebel there, Eds. Not even seventeen yet and now you’re lying to your mommy for me,” Richie teased.

Eddie made a fake retching sound, “You know I hate it when you call her ‘Mommy’.”

“I know,” Richie grinned.

“Idiot,” Eddie grumbled.

“I’m just messing with you,” Richie told him.

“So you’ll come then?”

“How do you know I haven’t already?” he asked cheekily.

“Oh God! Gross, Rich!” Eddie shouted.

Richie erupted in chuckles before the line went dead. “Hello?” he asked, a laugh still in his throat?

He opened the door wide enough to hang up the phone and dial Eddie back. It rang twice before Eddie answered, “You’re sick, you know that?”

“I got a fever and the only prescription is camping with you, Eddie dear,” Richie said.

“Keep it up and I’ll make you sleep in Jason’s tent,” Eddie warned him.

“I surrender.”

“Good. Then see you tomorrow at 8:45. Don’t come before then. My mom should be leaving around 8:30 and she still thinks Stan is coming with me.”

“Have you ever known me to be early to anything, Eds?”

“Fair point, you son of a bitch,” Eddie replied.

Eddie was nothing if not accurate, even when it was unintentional.

“I’ll see you at 0800, captain!” Richie joked.

“You know that’s not accurate, idiot.”

“Fuck, you know how I feel about the name-calling. You’re about two insults away from this conversation becoming foreplay,” he teased.

“Ugh, then here’s the last one: Goodnight, asshole.”

“Good night, Eddie,” Richie smiled.

“Night, Rich,” Eddie replied quietly before hanging up the phone for the night.

Richie put the phone back on the table in the hallway and shuffled down the stairs. He wandered into the kitchen where he opened the fridge and took out the leftover container. He picked out a piece of grilled chicken and bit into the cold meat. He stood there quietly as he finished the piece then threw the container back in the fridge. He grabbed the carton of orange juice and took three chugs of it from behind the fridge door in case either of his parents walked in.  
  


He walked into the living room where he found his dad watching highlights from the day’s baseball games. “Hey dad, some of the guys are going camping out on Mike’s farm this weekend. Can I go?”

“Will Mike’s uncle be there?”

“Uh, yeah, his aunt and his uncle.”

“Alright. Will you be back on Saturday?”

“Uh, Sunday, actually.”

“Okay, just get home at a decent hour on Sunday, okay?”

“Got it. Thanks, Dad.” Richie turned to head back up the stairs.

“Wait,” his father called after him.

Richie stopped and twisted back around. “Yeah?”

“Listen, I know it can be a little tough with your mom, but don’t talk to her like you did at dinner, okay?”

“Okay.”

“It just doesn’t help anything, Rich.”

“Okay, dad,” Richie repeated.

His dad nodded, “Good night, son.”

“Night,” Richie replied as he took the stairs two at a time.

Upstairs in his room, Richie grabbed some clothes and threw them on the bean bag chair in the corner of his room. He could finish packing tomorrow.


	3. Leaving Derry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eddie's POV

“Is your friend going to show up or what?” Jason asked. He was lying on the lawn, leaning back on his hands and peering up at Eddie who was pacing back and forth across the brick path leading up to his house.

Richie was late. Really late. He was supposed to be here half an hour ago. Eddie swore he told him 8:45 over the phone last night. Damn it, Richie.

“He’ll be here,” Eddie promised as he continued to pace.

“Sure, whatever,” Jason responded.

Eddie paused his pacing to lean against the station wagon. He went over the packing list in his head. _Tent. Sleeping bag. Flashlight. Extra batteries. Portable stove. Lighter. Fork. Spoon. Canned food. Bread. Soap. Sponge. Toothbrush. Toothpaste. Compass._ Plants of Maine: Toxic and Nontoxic (thanks, Stan). _Extra clothes. Extra, extra socks. Windbreaker. Sunscreen. Toilet paper. Water._

“Shit, the water,” Eddie cursed under his breath. He went around to the back of Jason’s car and opened the back. There they were – two extra gallons of water. He knew he packed everything they could need and more, but it was too easy to convince himself he screwed up somehow. Eddie shut the door and propped his wrist up on the glass of the window to check the time. They were meant to leave eighteen minutes ago according to his watch.

He had just enough time to think maybe he should go back in the house and call Richie’s house when he heard the slap of shoes hitting the sidewalk across the street behind him. Richie was running, his duffel bag wildly slamming against his frame with every step he took, his backpack shaking out of rhythm with the rest of his body.

“Eds!” Richie yelled. “I’m here, I’m –“ he tripped in his beloved Half Cab’s and stumbled on the grass lying between the sidewalk and curb.

Eddie jogged over to help him up.

Richie rolled over onto his back as he freed himself from the duffel bag strap, both his arms then lying flat in the grass and his hips twisted. His chest heaved, “Shit.”

Eddie held out a hand to help him up. Richie huffed and grabbed his hand, their thumbs locking together as Eddie pulled him up. Eddie grabbed him by the elbow with his left hand to support him, “You’re late.”

“I’m sorry, Eddie,” he told him as he leaned down, trying to pat off the grass stains on his knees. Eddie knew the stains wouldn’t come out and suspected Rich probably knew, too. “I woke up on time, I swear, I just,” Richie combed his hand through his hair, “My parents decided to have family breakfast this morning, and they think I’m just going camping with everyone over at Mike’s.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie told him, “Here, give me that, I’ll put it in the back,” he said as he picked up Richie’s bag. It was lighter than he expected.

“Oh, okay,” Richie replied.

Jason had already started the car. He’d rolled down the window, too, “You coming or not?”

Eddie took the seat behind Jason in the back, expecting Richie to take the passenger seat like he always tried to do in Bill’s van because he always claimed he needed the extra leg room. But Richie sat in the back, too, dropping his backpack flat on the seat between them. “Jason, how’s it going man?” Richie beamed.

Eddie looked at Richie like he was crazy. They weren’t necessarily friends with Jason Thompson, but that didn’t seem to faze Richie. “What?” he shrugged to Eddie.

Eddie just shook his head.

“Glad you could join us, Tozier,” Jason replied flatly as he put the wagon in drive and headed down the road.

“Sure, I love camping,” Richie replied, drumming at his thighs. “Apparently not as much as you, though,” he smirked, “Cargo shorts and cargo vest? How utilitarian of you. I bet you can store all kinds of illicit drugs in all those pockets.”

“Rich,” Eddie hit his arm with his knuckles lightly.

“Shut up, Trashmouth. We’ve got a two and a half hour drive ahead of us.”

“Whoa,” Richie raised his hands up. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” he smirked.

Jason smashed the power button on the radio with his open palm, almost like he was slapping it.

They listened to “American Jesus” as they drove west, Richie bouncing his leg to the tune, humming along and bobbing his head.

Eddie held the back of his neck with his left hand and leaned his arm against the window. He rested his cheek on the soft underside of his forearm and watched as his dark curls jostled around his face.

“You such a poser, Tozier,” Jason scoffed from the front seat. The insult startled Eddie and his sat up straighter. He felt the smile leave his face.

He didn’t love the energy in the car, that was certain. It reminded him too much of their younger days when bullies and assholes took every opportunity to shove them around and call them names. Over the past year or so, things had started getting better. They all found their own ways to cope. Eddie, for one, became much faster and no one could really chase him down anymore. Stan made a business out of doing dumb assholes’ homework. Mike had his truck, and Bill had his car for quick getaways. Ben’s mom’s had been going steady with a guy who worked in the DA’s office. Bev didn’t really need a new coping skill. She always gave off the air of “I’ve been through so much shit, nothing you can do could possibly hurt me.” Really, it was true. And Richie, well, he didn’t pull any punches and wouldn’t stay down when they kicked him. He always stood back up, a sort of crazy in his eye, and more stamina than the rest. Simply put, he just wasn’t fun to beat up anymore.

Richie rolled his eyes, “What’s the problem with enjoying a Bad Religion song?”

“That’s just it – it’s not a silly pop song you just dance around to. It’s real shit. It’s a satirical response to ‘one nation under God’ and Bush saying God’s on our side as he sends troops to die in the desert,” Jason said condescendingly.

“Gee, that’s a fascinating take, Jason, but do you have any original thought on the song or do you wanna just keep plagiarizing the _Recipe For Hate_ review that was in The Wire last month?”

Jason stared at him angrily.

“Yeah,” Richie nodded. “I read, too. And the lyrics aren’t exactly a secret code, man. It’s obvious what it’s about. How very punk of you to be policing punk right now,” he replied sarcastically.

Eddie had to concentrate on not laughing at Richie’s burn. Jason could still turn this car around. Instead, he slapped the power button again and their drive returned to silence.

But then Richie was loudly digging through his backpack, like he wanted Jason to yell at him. Instead Jason just slapped the power button again, music coming on louder than before. Eddie could feel a headache coming on.

Richie had pulled a yellow legal pad out of his backpack. He was flipping through all the pages to find a blank one, wrapping the paper over the top binding over and over, still loudly. Eddie always thought it was strange Richie liked to use those. Even in class, he would use them for notes, though he was rarely taking notes - more like scribbling nonsense. Eddie preferred the composition notebooks. He had a different color for every class and they fit tidily in his locker.

Richie plopped the legal pad on Eddie’s lap and then a pen on top of it. He had written Eddie a message.

_Do you have any water?_

Eddie whipped his head to look at him with a judging gaze. He was about to speak out, but then Richie reached over and tapped the notepad on his lap. He mimed writing out a message, his left palm flat like it was the paper. Eddie rolled his eyes, but picked up the pen, neatly out a quick note.

_You didn’t bring any water?_

He handed it back over, tossing the pen without care. Richie juggled it in his hands before scratching out a reply.

_I brought a bottle, but I didn’t fill it._

Eddie sighed, but passed over his canteen from under the driver’s seat.

Richie smiled as he unscrewed the cap. He tried to waterfall it into his mouth, but a lot of it ended up on his chin. When he was done drinking, his lips were pink and shiny. Eddie looked out the window. There was no “Leaving Derry” sign, but turned back to see the welcome sign grow smaller in the distance.

He felt Richie lift the notepad off his lap and turned to watch as he started writing something long. Eddie felt his eyes droop and watched Richie write for as long as he could before dozing off.

He woke with a startle, feeling like he was falling. He was though. His sluggish body slumped far enough to the right that he began falling down. He breathed in deeply and sat upright, readjusting in his seat. The music had turned back off.

Richie was quietly laughing at him. He closed his notepad too quickly for Eddie to take a peek at what he’d written. Richie moved his backpack to the floorboard and wrapped his left hand around Eddie’s neck, lightly tugging him down. 

“What are you doing?” Eddie asked startled, his voice weak from his nap.

“Just lie down, man,” Richie explained.

Eddie didn’t understand.

“Here,” Richie spoke as he took off his plaid shirt and folded it haphazardly on his lap. He shifted the material to his left thigh. “A pillow, see?”

“Oh, no, I’m okay,” Eddie yawned.

Richie just looked at him, raising his eyebrow. “We’ve still got an hour and a half to go, and I can’t pitch a tent. I’m counting on you to do it.”

Jason laughed under his breath at that. Richie rolled his eyes and Eddie’s face went hot as he realized why Jason was laughing.

Eddie shook his head which turned into another yawn.

“Suit yourself,” Richie conceded as he leaned against the other window.

Eddie turned watched as the quaking aspens whipped by. They were entering a winding stretch of the road, climbing uphill. Eddie felt his head spin. Closing his eyes, he let himself fall to the side and adjust the side of his face against Richie’s makeshift pillow.

Eddie shifted his hips so the seat belt piece wasn’t digging so hard into his back. He leaned hard with his cheek to swing his legs up onto the seat, his feet pressed firmly against the door and his knees pulled up toward his chest. It took him a while to get comfortable, but he eventually found a good position.

“Better?” Richie asked from above.

Eddie nodded, keeping his eyes closed. Richie’s leg shifted slightly beneath him. In minutes he was asleep again.


End file.
